Someone to Watch Over Me
by ladykatherinetoyou
Summary: Alone and lost in the Land Without Magic, Killian Jones searches for his Swan, the only woman to capture his heart in centuries. But when he finally finds her, she can't remember him. How will Jones succeed, when her family's fate is upon him? Rated M: some language, some intense romance. Canon plot to 3x11 plus A/U. SECOND EDIT - ON HOLD FOR REWRITE, B/C I DON'T LIKE MY PLOT. LOL
1. Loneliness

Okay, Kids. I've officially boarded the Captain Swan ship. I'm open to any relationship that Killian wants (*ducking*) but I'd love it if Swan and Jones would get it overwith already and get a room.

And some wedding rings.

And make some babies, for cripes' sake.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own OUAT, but I wish I owned Jones.

**A/N:** Canon plot to 3x11 after this original chapter with my version of the characters' thoughts. Spoilers for the next few chapters. Rated M to be on the safe side, because my muse has a dirty side sometimes, and she's screaming for Jones right now.

Don't read if you haven't gotten to that point… BUT WHY WOULDN'T YOU? GO! GO! HULU PLUS AND NETFLIX, DEARIES!

**Loneliness**

_October 23, 2010, Boston, Massachusetts_

The club was packed as usual… people she recognized each time she came, plus a crop of new ones she didn't. She only came here when the loneliness gripped her heart and she knew she couldn't stand another moment in her apartment.

It was karaoke night, a bonus. She'd been told on the rare occasion that she had a beautiful singing voice, whenever caught singing in the shower by the stray lover who'd spent the night or singing to a favorite tune. However, there were plenty who certainly couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, and she chuckled to herself with a wan smile. Suddenly, a favorite song from her youth popped in her head.

Did she have the guts?

Of course she didn't. But the alcohol burning in her veins and the sheer pain and loneliness of being abandoned by both her parents and the one person she'd ever fully given her heart to suddenly gave her the urge to flip through the bright blue notebook full of songs. Was it here, she thought to herself. And finally, it was. Her eyebrows lifted, the corners of her mouth tilting up in surprise. She took the small pencil and a pre-printed slip of paper and wrote out her request…

_Somewhere in NeverLand..._

The seas were high and the sky gray with the coming squall. Jaw set, brows furrowed, he gripped the wheel at the helm and held his beloved steady. The need for revenge had softened tonight, replaced with a feeling of loneliness and despair. Only he knew the contents of his heart, which he had shielded so carefully from all but one… his raven-haired beauty.

And he felt her absence most assuredly tonight.

How long would it be until could feel that way again? Would Fate give him that chance once again? He closed his eyes briefly and shook off the hope like a stray leaf. He steeled himself as the cold rain hit him, determined to ride out the storm like he always did. The ache in his heart grew as the drops of water mixed with his tears.

He hardly ever cried anymore. But tonight he let himself go, sobbing into the icy wind as he fought to keep the ship on her course. Anger fused with his sadness, and he was reminded once again of the revenge he sought. He'd have it. He'd avenge her…

But a small still voice inside him reminded him that once revenge was taken, he'd need to find something else to drive him. He shouted a curse into the skies, angry, hurt, sad, and ever so lonely. He'd never be any different than he was tonight.

He'd always be alone.


	2. At First Glance

This and the next few chapters, as I mentioned previously, are canon plot. However, the thoughts are entirely my own.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own OUAT.

Dammit.

**At First Glance**

_The remains of the Enchanted Forest, post-curse_

Emma knew something was off as soon as she looked into the bright blue eyes of the blacksmith they'd found hiding underneath the carnage in the village. His fear was almost too perfect, his pleas almost too rehearsed. That feeling washed over her. Was he telling the truth?

Ten minutes later, her hand gripping his dark, rumpled hair and her knife at his throat, she knew she'd been right. This man had his own agenda. His own plan. Somehow they were part of it… and she'd find out.

She had to admit, when they finally had him trussed up tight to the wide trunk of the tree, a small quiver in her belly forced her to look into those cerulean eyes. God, but he was gorgeous. She didn't think she'd ever seen a man so… beautiful. Beautiful and rugged and ruthless, with that dazzling, wide smile full of shiny perfect white teeth and a voice as silky and smooth as dark, melted chocolate.

Then it all shattered to pieces when he said one simple word. His nickname, his moniker, his alias.

_Hook_.

Goddammit. Captain Hook was gorgeous, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it.

_Later, up a Beanstalk..._

He winced as he saw the blood on her hand. Such a delicate hand, although it was as strong as her unrelenting spirit. Aye, but she was a feisty one. He'd not come across a woman like this in a long time, since... He winced inside. Beautiful yet dangerous, kind yet cunning. Her hair fell about her shoulders like fine golden silk, her eyes as green as a soft patch of forest moss. And her eyelashes. Gods, but they were long and black and thick, framing those pools of green just perfectly.

He watched her delicate mouth as he poured the rum onto the wound and gently wrapped it with his scarf, tying it tightly with his teeth as he'd only one hand. For a split second, he felt his gut twist as pain shot through her features. For a moment, she looked alone, scared, and lost. He knew the look well. This was a woman who held her own, never let anything – or anyone, he mused – stand in her way. Much like him, he thought.

She was tough and tender and gentle and spirited. She moved with a gracefulness that fit her name.

Swan.

Bloody hell. Emma Swan was beautiful. And he was helpless around her.


	3. Regret

Same as previous chapter. I know these are a bit short, but I thought they were key moments for Swan and Jones.

**Disclaimer:** *sigh* Yeah, I know. I don't own OUAT.

**Regret**

_Granny's Diner, Storybrooke_

She had to admit, her heart had skipped a beat when Jones showed up at the loft earlier. Wasn't it _just_ like a pirate, though. Switching sides constantly, joining alliances only when it served his purpose. But even now, as they all gathered in the small diner, when his intentions were obviously only for his own protection, there was something about the way he spoke, the look in his eye.

Emma instantly regretted leaving him tied up in that storage closet in Manhattan the minute she'd done it. She couldn't take another chance on him, especially when Henry was so upset that his new-found grandfather was sure to die. Suddenly, somewhere deep inside, she wanted to know his anger and wrath. Wanted to know what it was like to be on the wrong side of his temper.

She imagined him cursing and stomping around, that leather coat flailing around like a thick black sail. Stepping into her space, grabbing her hair, pulling her head back. All but spitting in her face as he roared at her, the tip of his hook at the hollow of her throat. The way his eyes would undoubtedly snap and spark like brilliant blue fireworks.

But he didn't seem to blame her. If anything, he looked relieved to see her again. And deep down inside, she was glad he was okay. But he couldn't abandon them like this... Could he?

Would he?

He couldn't...

Setting her jaw, she stepped into his personal space. It was time to give the Captain a little talk.

_Moments later..._

Jones wished she wouldn't look at him that way. How did she know how he felt? The words that had just left those perfect lips had described him exactly.

_Look out for yourself, and you'll never get hurt._

Was she that much like him? If she was, she'd certainly escape only with those she cared for the most. And he'd be left where? To die? He almost regretted slipping that magic bean into his pocket before he handed her the small black pouch. Almost.

Even with the knowledge that Bae was dead.

And as she rushed out, he was alone with his thoughts. Glancing around the small, now empty building, he turned on his heel, the hem of his thick leather coat swishing behind him like a cape as he made his way out the door and through town. He had only one love now, the sea. And he'd never leave her again. Even if it cost him his revenge.

But it meant that he'd never see Swan again.

He turned the wheel of the Jolly Roger and steered her out to sea, the shimmering bean tight in the grasp of his remaining hand. The further he sailed, the harder his heart beat. A pang of regret twisted inside him.

He'd left her to die.

He closed his eyes and imagined her standing before him, cursing and yelling at him for being so selfish. He could almost see her there, her green eyes wide with fear and anger, tears pricking at the corners, the tiny crack in her voice that conveyed her emotions.

Something strange pulled at his heart. He muttered a heavy curse under his breath and slipped the bean into a second pouch. Gripping the wheel, he swiftly turned the ship as he knew what he had to do.


	4. Focus

Still canon plot, with my own version of their thoughts.

**Disclaimer:** I REALLY wish I owned OUAT. Freakin Disney. LOL

**A/N:** Rated M for safety. My muse is starting to get off on Jones.

**Focus**

_Neverland_

As the Jolly Roger had sailed back into Storybrook Harbor, Emma had sworn that if she had seen that smug look on Jones' handsome face, she'd punch him square in that gorgeous mouth. She'd knock him to the deck of his damned pirate ship and then give him a solid kick in that perfect ass. But as he strode down the gangplank, she could see the unspoken apology in his eyes. What was different now?

She couldn't put her finger on it, but for some reason she trusted him for the first time. Even as they fell through the portal into Neverland. Even as they fought off the mermaids and the storm they'd caused while fighting amongst themselves. And when she took that leap off the side of the ship, she hoped it would be him to jump in after her.

Even though it was David – no, Dad, she corrected herself – who'd saved her, she could see what looked like relief in his eyes as she regained consciousness on the soaked deck.

_Focus on Henry_, she told herself as they loaded themselves into the small rowboat several hours later and rowed to the shore. _Focus on Henry_. But it was hard to focus on Henry now. She couldn't ignore the tickle in her belly whenever he passed by her. He smelled of leather and rum and the sea, and something else she couldn't put her finger on. Focusing was nearly impossible whenever he spoke, that rich, deep voice and his thick accent. And that damned charming, old-world way with words he had.

He couldn't have always been a pirate, could he? He was, as he claimed several times, a gentleman, even when they'd faced off verbally – and physically. Even when he sassed her with those inherently sexual innuendos that, yes, made her both angry and somewhat turned on at the same damn time.

And she was nearly ready to kill him now.

_I quite fancy you from time to time… when you're not yelling at me._

_Jones_

He had to admit, she was strong. Any other woman would have come apart at the seams the moment her child had disappeared. But it seemed to be the thing that fueled her. Gave her focus. Cleared her mind. Gods, she was so different. And standing here on the beach, speaking in that soft, yet commanding voice that always caught his ear, Jones fancied her quite a bit. She'd suddenly moved to to the forefront of his mind, a beautiful, strong woman who was afraid... but never showed it.

It made perfect sense, though. She was a Princess, the daughter of Snow White and Prince James. A royal. But yet abandoned, forced to forge her own path in her magicless world. He hadn't been lying about fancying her. Since they'd decided to take him up on his offer of help, there had been more than a handful of moments he wondered what it might be like to kiss her. How soft her lips might be. How she might feel underneath him, writhing and moaning as he pleasured her…

As they made their way through the thick, dense jungle, it was almost more than he could bear. _Focus_, he thought. _Don't let her distract you_. But distract him she did each time she passed him, her scent assaulting his nostrils, warm and alluring.

_Focus. It's much too dangerous here_. He tried to keep his eyes off her gently rounded bottom and wondered what her skin felt like underneath those strange garments they wore in her land. He'd never get the chance. She'd never let him get close enough for that. She was too strong, too distrusting. What had made her like this? Feeling like an orphan for so long? Was this the reason she gave away her son?

She looked so young. She'd had to have given birth to Henry when she was no more than a girl. His heart skipped a beat with a sadness he'd not felt in a long time. The day that Bae had nearly taken off his head with that small sword and cursed him for breaking apart their family. He'd given up the only thing close to a son he'd ever have. And he'd never see him again.

_So sorry, Swan_, he thought. _But will you ever let me in? _


	5. Passion

Still canon! This particular chapter is taken from Season 3x05, Good Form. If you have NOT seen this episode, you must see it. It is wonderfully written, and I love seeing a peek into Jones' past. (Sorry, kids, just can't call him Hook.)

**Disclaimer**: Yeah, yeah, yeah, I heard you, Disney. I don't own OUAT. (maybe I should buy a damn lottery ticket.)

**A/N**: My muse is still getting off on Jones. I wish she'd stop all the moaning and screaming already.

**Passion**

_I believe gratitude is in order?_ That look in his eyes as he tapped his lips with a calloused fingertip. Those sinful, sinful lips.

Bastard. _Please. You couldn't handle it._ That roll of her eyes that would tell him, 'go away, I don't need this right now…'

_Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle... it._ His warm breath ghosting over her lips. That luscious way he drew out the word _it_…

Passion, fear, longing, and pure lust rushed through her, and she grabbed the thick leather lapels of his coat and pulled him close to her, pressing her lips to his, digging her hand in his soft, dark hair. But as soon as their lips touched, it wasn't gratitude that she now felt pulsing inside her. It was pure need. She wanted this man, this pirate, this would-be hero with his naughty innuendos and his black leather and his week-old scruff and eyes as blue as the seas he sailed.

The heat of his body assaulted her, his scent enveloping her. His hand gently cupped the back of her head, and she shivered as the fingers of his right hand brushed the bare skin of her upper arm. (Had she imagined it, or had he caressed her hair as well?) Then, as soon as it started, it was over. Green met blue.

_That was… _

Push him away. Don't let him in. _…A onetime thing._

Her cheeks flushed hotly and she left him.

Moments later, she was cursing herself. Shit, shit shit. Why did I kiss him?

_Because you needed to,_ she told herself.

But why? He's a… pirate.

_You know he can't have always been this way. Something made him take that path, and you know it._

Ugh. Why does he have to be so hot?

She couldn't answer that one. She sighed to herself.

Why does he make me feel so… safe?

She couldn't answer that one either.

_Jones_

Breathing heavily, Jones tossed back a healthy mouthful of rum. So that's what it was like to kiss her. She tasted as sweet as she smelled, and she felt even better. Her hair was just as silky as he'd imagined. And her skin… oh, gods, the feel of her soft skin under his fingertips. She'd been the initiator, something he definitely wasn't used to. But he liked it.

She'd been right. He couldn't bloody well handle it after all.

But, dear gods… her lips. He'd remember their searing heat and softness for all eternity. Even now, as he brought his fingers to his lips once again. She'd branded not only his lips, but his soul as well.

_Better fix that memory solid in your mind, Jones, because you heard her. You'll never kiss her again._

Passion flared in his gut and in his loins as he tossed back another mouthful. No more, he thought. Keep your wits about you or you're going to get her killed.

_Her._

He realized the depth of what he was thinking. Normally he'd have said 'yourself'. But now, it was all about her. He had to keep her safe. He had to right all the wrongs he'd done her. He didn't care if it meant anything to her or not. But it meant something to him.

He began to pace. Yes, he did care if it meant something to her. But why?

He'd felt something in that kiss, something he hadn't felt in ages. Bloody hell, he thought. Why did you goad her into kissing you, you git? *

_Because you needed her to._

Why? She's a Princess, even if she doesn't believe it.

_You've always wanted what you couldn't have._

He groaned. Why did she have to be so bloody beautiful?

The answer evaded him.

And why did he feel such a pressing need to keep her safe?

He sighed as his mind searched for the answer.

_*git = British slang for a foolish or contemptible person._


	6. Forgetting

Last canon chapter, kids. Season 3x11, Going Home. I swear... I almost cried.

**Disclaimer:** Jones said I can have whatever I want. But I still can't have OUAT. *sniff*

**A/N**: OK, my muse is lying on the sofa with this weirdly contented look on her face. ;)

**Forgetting**

_Town Line, Storybrook, Maine_

But I don't _want_ to forget him...

He simply stood there, alone, his handsome face tortured. Just when Emma thought she might begin to get to know him, she had to leave him behind. She made her way over to him and looked in those deep blue eyes, digesting the thought of never seeing him again.

And she felt very sad.

She smiled when he had teased her. _That's quite a vessel you captain there, Swan._ Of course he'd say that. Cars were still new to him. And hers, well… she knew it was unique. And she knew he had to lighten the air around them. It was thick as thieves.

But the way he looked at her...

All Jones wanted to do was pull her into his arms and kiss her one last time. His heart ached at the thought of never seeing her lovely face again. Of never hearing her bark or yell at him. He smiled wanly and spoke the only words he could muster. _There's not a day that will go by that I won't think of you._

They were only simple words, but Emma's heart skipped a beat. She knew he meant every word he said, and every word he didn't. And as he'd held back for her sake, she held back for his.

_Good._

That's all she needed to say to convey what she felt, what she knew she couldn't say, and that he would know.

She didn't want to forget him.

And she couldn't bear him _not_ forgetting her.

She kept her eyes on him as long as she could while still looking at the road ahead, the hem of that coat flapping, his short dark hair whipping about.

She focused on him as long as possible, until the purple smoke filled the air and her memory began to fade.

Jones stood still, watching as the small yellow carriage made its way over the line separating this strange Storybrook from the rest of the Land Without Magic.

And suddenly, in a thick, purple cloud, everything turned black.

I've lost her.

_Swan_, he cried to himself as the blackness overtook them all, _Swan… please… don't ever forget me…_


	7. Searching

Let's get down to business, shall we? This is how we do it in MY mind.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own OUAT, nor the writers, but if I did, Jones would be shirtless in every scene. ;)

A/N: I know Jones has been to Manhattan, but not like this. He's here for the long term. I like the thought of him in New York.

Reviews are like crack for writers... please leave one, good OR not.

**Searching**

_The Land Without Magic... after Pan's curse_

Jones hated this… Land Without Magic. It was loud, crowded, and the people were so awfully rude. Upon arriving, he'd fallen flat on his back in a large grassy area, the wind knocked out of him with a _**WHOOSH**_. It was late at night, and he recognized some of the constellations from his last trip to this nefarious place. He rolled to his side, rubbing a still-sore spot on a tender rib, and hoisted himself to his feet.

"Hey! You!" Eyes wide, he whirled around to see a lad of no more than 25 standing there, a small pistols in his grip, wearing a strange, dark blue outfit. "NYPD! Put your hands behind your back!"

Jones cursed under his breath and stood up, his arms outstretched, a wide smile on his face. "Relax, lad, I mean you no harm. I'm just looking for someone."

The other man tilted his head and gave Jones a strange look. "You goin' to a costume party or somethin', buddy?"

Buddy.

He didn't know what it meant, but his Swan had once said that to him.

_Keep smiling, buddy_.

He could still see her face…

"You listenin' to me?"

"Why yes, good sir. I do believe I might be a tad bit lost. Can you tell me where I might find a place called… Man Hattan?"

Holstering the black firearm (much to Jones' relief), the lad shrugged his shoulders. "You're in it."

"Well, that's grand!" Jones answered with a small laugh. "Perhaps I'm not as lost as I feared, then." _Damn lucky, you blasted pirate. _"And good, because I've a party to get to."

"You 'sposed to be Captain Hook or somethin'?" A gesture was made to his metal appendage.

_Play along_, Jones thought to himself. _You're a character in a bloody fairy tale here. _

"Aye. Though I've grown tired of that bothersome wig." He bowed. "Captain Hook, at your service, lad."

The young man smiled. "That's fuckin' cool. You should be an actor or something. You've got him down pretty good." He turned. "Have fun at your party."

"I shall, lad. Thanks ever so much."

Jones waited until he'd walked away and let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Cutting his eyes left and right, he slipped his hooked hand into the pocket of his coat and turned around.

And suddenly, his heart stopped beating.

Leaning against the green metal barrier, golden hair shining in the moonlight and the strange lights surrounding the area, was a slim woman in a hip-length black coat, tight black pants (of which Jones had grown SO fond… they fit so perfectly around her lovely arse and legs) and knee-length black boots.

_Gods_, he thought. _Has Fate smiled upon me so soon?_

He remembered what the Blue Fairy had told him.

_She won't remember you, Captain. Be careful, or you may frighten her to the point she'll never speak with you._

He slipped up behind her, his right hand fisted tightly, desperate to thread itself through those long, silky locks…

"Swan?"


	8. Searching, Part 2

A/U. All me and my wild imagination.

**Disclaimer:** sad non-owner of OUAT.

No particular A/N at this time. Except... I'd love to run into Jones in Central Park, you know?

* * *

_He slipped up behind her, his right hand fisted tightly, desperate to thread itself through those long, silky locks…_

_"Swan?"_

* * *

She turned to face him, and his heart sank.

"Name's Karen, handsome, but…" the lovely lass eyed him up and down, smiling at him with deep, brown eyes. "…you can call me anything you want."

So, not everyone was rude in this land. Good to know.

But…

He stepped back with a sigh and bowed deeply. "Forgive me, m'lady. I was looking for my… partner. We're due at our party anytime, and I have yet to find her."

The lass kept smiling. "I've always had a thing for pirates. You don't find her?" She gave him a wink. "You can come back and find _me_."

Jones gritted his teeth but smiled gracefully. "But of course. Goodnight, m'lady."

As he walked through the empty area to the open gate, he suddenly felt very alone.

And a tiny bit frightened.

He twisted the hook in his pocket. In this land, he stuck out like the metal appendage that had given him his well-known alias. _A sore thumb_, was the phrase Dave had used. As he'd readied himself for the journey, Neal had given him a key, a piece of folded paper, and a small plastic card.

"Killian. You're gonna need a place to stay, and you're gonna have to get outta those clothes. People are gonna think… well… you're weird or crazy or something."

Jones had furrowed his brow and bristled. "I am nothing of the sort, and you know it."

"Yeah," Neal had pressed, "but you don't belong there. You gotta to fit in. That's the key to my apartment in Manhattan in New York, a map to get there, in case you don't remember from the last time (Jones hadn't missed the edge to Neal's voice and the icy look in his eye), and my ATM card. Just look for a box that has the letters A-T-M and has this sign on it. The code you'll type in is 1023."

"And why do I need this… A-T-M card?" Jones turned the small card over in his hand, looking at it in wonder.

"Money. For food, clothes, whatever you need to find Emma. There's plenty there, and it's yours."

"I seem to remember that your world doesn't exactly deal in gold coins."

Neal had smiled. "You could say that."

* * *

HEY! *ducks*

You really didn't think he'd find her THAT fast did ya?

Tell me what you think... good or not!


	9. Business as Usual

Still A/U, but let's have a little Swan for the time being. What's she feeling right now?

**Disclaimer:** *sigh* This is becoming tiresome.

**A/N:** Remember when Dave and Rumple talked about Belle being Lacey, and Dave saying something about slivers of their real selves while they were cursed? I wonder if it works in reverse…

**Business as Usual**

Swan stretched, curling her toes against the silky sheets of her bed. She'd had another dream.

For nearly a year, she'd had really freaky dreams that she just couldn't explain... and kind of didn't want to. Mostly they were just jumbles and slivers of fairy tales, which was weird enough in itself. How long had it been since she'd even _read_ a damn fairy tale, anyway?

But last night, her dream was of a man, as it sometimes was. A man kissing her. The only things she knew about him were that his sinfully soft lips tasted of rum, and his eyes were bright blue… and she felt safe with him. Every time she had that damn dream, she was sure to have a good day, where luck was a lady and she felt like she could conquer the world.

Except in last night's dream, they were doing a _lot_ more than kissing. She could feel the heat of his body above her, stubble tickling her upper lip and chin as their mouths fused together. A warm hand sliding over her skin. Her hands fisted in short, soft hair. A deliciously _full_ feeling deep inside her. But as badly as she wanted to see her dream lover's face, she never could.

_Ugh. Really?_

She glanced over at the romance novel on her nightstand. Tilting her head, she studied it. It was a pirate romance, the cover sporting a handsome, dark-headed swashbuckler holding a golden-haired lady tightly against him, ready to ravish her just with his eyes. She'd bought it on a whim, and only read it at night, when she could dog ear it after she couldn't take it anymore, snuggle under the covers, and let her fingers work desperately between her thighs until she eased the ache. This had to be the reason for the dream last night…

_Jesus. I gotta stop reading this shit. _

She tossed the book in a drawer and headed to the shower with a grin, ready to take on what she knew was bound to be a red-letter day.


	10. Searching, Part 3

Still A/U. I've noticed I have HUNDREDS of views, and several followers! I am _**honored**_, since this is my very first OUAT story. If you are reading this, and you like it, please drop me a note, even if you'd like to make it anon. It would really make my day! Plus, I'm always looking for ideas, so if you have some, throw them at me. Jones is a world of inspiration on his own, but it couldn't hurt.

**Disclaimer:** really?

**A/N:** Remember, Jones is here for the long haul. He's only been outside Storybrook once. And it wasn't for very long. But also remember, Jones is a survivor. He'll do whatever it takes to get what he wants. And tonight, well, he wants someone he can't have right now. I also thought it would be kind of funny for him to catch "Hook" on the TV. LOL He's so much fun to write!

* * *

"I seem to remember that your world doesn't exactly deal in gold coins."

Neal had smiled. "You could say that."

* * *

As soon as he could, Jones found a quiet spot and reviewed the map. Yes, he remembered being here before, when he'd sunk his poisoned hook into the Crocodile's chest.

It seemed so long ago.

He walked to a corner and looked up at a strange green sign. Reading the name, he glanced at the map. Not too far now. He walked down the side of the crowded street, those strange metallic carriages filling the street with an odd-smelling smoke and too much noise. So many yellow ones, too, bearing the word TAXI. Neal had told him those could take him where he wanted to go, for money.

_**Money**_. Jones cursed to himself and began looking for one of those odd A-T-M boxes. And as luck would have it, there was one on the corner. Fishing the small plastic card from the inside of his long coat, he did as Neal had told him, punched in the code, and retrieved the amount Neal had told him to start with… $1,000.00. He pocketed the strange paper currency, took a small slip of paper from the box, and stared at the screen again.

**THANK YOU FOR BANKING WITH US, NEAL CASSIDY.**

"Indeed."

About 20 minutes later, Jones was settled safely and securely inside Neal's residence. He absentmindedly turned to the magic box everyone seemed to be so enchanted with in this land, and picked up a small, elongated black object with brightly colored buttons bearing words like 'guide' and 'cancel' and 'volume' (Dave and Neal had both tried to explain what this "remote" was, but finally, Dave had just thrown up his hands and said he'd figure it out when he got there). Settling back on the sofa, he pointed the object at the screen, pressed a bright red button marked "POWER" and began pressing the 'channel' button as he'd seen the residents of Storybrook do. He had wondered why this magic box was so entertaining... and now he knew.

So interesting, all these images. People cooking, people fixing things, plays, music (although Jones really didn't consider some of the awful noise that burst from the box to be 'music')... Suddenly, his eyes widened when he heard the words, "Peter Pan's my…_ DAD_?"*

Ahhh, a movie about that frightful demon. Thank the gods _he_ was finally gone. But he was intrigued... after all, they were all characters in fairy tales here. _Let's see what this world thinks of Captain Hook_, he smiled to himself, albeit a bit cheekily. He watched the scenes as they played out before his eyes. Until...

He sat straight up at the edge of the sofa, eyes wide and glued to the magic box before him. He actually thought he might fall to the floor in a dead faint. Finally, he understood what Swan meant while they were in Neverland.

_If waxed moustaches and perms are your thing. _

His jaw dropped as he took in this land's rendition of himself. Ugly, thick eyebrows, a rather large nose, horrible wig (_that must be the 'perm'_, he mused, _and it's bloody awful indeed_), and too much lace for his liking (Jones thought he needed some _**serious**_ advice on how to dress in proper pirate fashion). And what a dreadful moustache.

He watched the odd box until the story was over (and he also now understood why Swan had no idea what they'd been up against in Neverland... who was responsible for such drabble and lies?), and suddenly yawned. It was late, and aye, he was a bit tired. Neal had told him to make himself at home, meaning the place was pretty much his for now. Remembering Dave's instructions, he found the large water closet (which was more than just a water closet, he mused) and turned the handles of the large bathtub surrounded in a plain white curtain of sorts, touching the warm water pouring from the silvery faucet with tentative fingertips. He'd never seen anything like it.

So _this_ was what Swan had called a shower. He could imagine what it might be like to stand under this rainfall of blessedly warm water with her, naked and wet, sliding his hands over her silky skin and threading his fingers through those silky golden locks…

_Stop yourself_, he thought. _You've long days ahead. _

But even after he'd showered, dried off, pulled on a t shirt and some soft, pliable trousers Neal had called 'sweatpants' and curled up in bed, he ached for his Swan as he took a pillow and held it to his chest, wishing it was her to lull him to sleep.

* * *

*From the movie "Hook". Although I LOVE Dustin Hoffman as the infamous Hook... well, kids, that image doesn't really do it for me anymore. Not for you, either, huh?

Of course, that wouldn't even be possible without the handsome and talented Colin O. (Hope you've had a Happy Birthday, cutie pie!)


	11. Business as Usual, Part 2

Still A/U.

**A/N:** So Emma's been having dreams, huh? Let's see what's going on with Henry.

* * *

"Mom?"

Swan sat at the large window on the cushion, looking out at the rain. It was starting to get cold, and today, she just couldn't seem to get warm. At least it was Saturday, and she could just relax and maybe make some cupcakes with Henry later.

"What's up, Henry?" she smiled, opening her arms to him. He was getting almost too big to cuddle with her, but she'd gladly do it as long as he'd let her. He moved to sit next to her and laid his head on her shoulder with a sigh. Immediately, Swan wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tightly. "Hey. Something buggin you?"

He paused, as if he wasn't really sure he wanted to say anything. "Mom, I've been having some really weird dreams."

Something stirred in her, but she kept her arms loose and relaxed around her son, simply enjoying the comfort. "What kind of dreams? Good? Bad? Scary? I can get a bigger dreamcatcher for you."

"No, just… weird."

She kissed him on the top of his head. "Hey, don't worry, kiddo. They're just dreams. Dreams are just your brain's way of keeping itself busy while you're sleeping… like a movie, you know?" Pausing, she added, "You know, you've gotten pretty good at drawing. Why don't you keep a dream notebook and write out your dreams, and draw some pictures? Might help. You never know."

"Yeah." He hugged her. "Thanks, Mom. You always know how to make me feel better."

Mother and son smiled at each other. After a few minutes, she patted his arm. "Want to make cupcakes?"

"Are you kidding? As long as you make the chocolate frosting!"

_I can think of plenty to do with chocolate frosting, as long as it involves that sexy dream lover of mine._


	12. Searching, Part 4

Still A/U. Thank you for the sweet reviews! I missed the show when it first aired, and could never get caught up. When I finally began watching it on Netflix during a nasty bout with bronchitis, I knew I had found the PERFECT show, and I'm counting down the days to Match 9th!

**A/N:** I thought it might be time for Jones to do a little shopping. This should be fun, don't you think? Oh, Captain, to be a fly on the wall in your dressing room. *sigh*

* * *

It had been only two days since he'd come to the Land Without Magic, but Jones was growing very impatient.

He'd set off for Boston, hoping it was where Swan still lived. He'd borrowed some of Neal's clothes to camoflauge himself in this strange land, but somehow he still felt a bit off, especially with his hook safely encased in Neal's strange satchel slung over his shoulder. These items of clothing... they weren't him, they were Neal. And although he loved the lad with all his heart (although he wasn't much of a lad these days), he knew he had to try to make himself more... like _himself_. How he was to do that though... aye, that was the mystery.

The answer suddenly came to him when he saw a life-sized thing behind a large glass window that looked much like a strange doll – all white and faceless. But what really caught his eye was the clothing adorning the doll.

After studying the white thing for a bit, Jones had decided that he was going to take Neal's advice and buy some clothing after all. It wasn't as if he couldn't pay him back. He had his own stash of booty – well hidden away of course – and he planned to impart a sizeable portion (not only as payback, but as a thank-you) to Neal once he'd completed the journey.

He felt eyes on him, and became suddenly very aware of a pretty young lass watching him intently through the glass doors with a large smile.

_Bloody hell_, Jones thought. _Shall __**every**__ woman in this cursed land stare at me like this?_ He most certainly enjoyed it, but not quite as much as he used to, he had to admit. _Ah, well. Perhaps she could be of some assistance._

Several hours and a few hundred dollars later, Jones left the 'dee-part-ment store' (as the young lass named Cara had referred to it) with clothing _much_ more to his liking. She had been quite helpful, even with all her gushing and blushing. Since he knew so little of clothing in this land (other than what Neal kept at his home) he'd simply asked her opinion of what she might think would look appealing on him.

So now he was the owner of two thick sweaters with a high, rolled neck (she called them 'turtle-necks', what the bloody hell?): one a rich blue, and one a soft gray that reminded him of a cloudy day at sea. Cara had also insisted on shirts, even though they looked so different from the shirts he was used to wearing – these had low collars, slim sleeves, and strange buttons. He chose a black one, just to appease her. He did select two pairs of 'jeans', she'd called them, and had to have a pair of "cow-boy" boots like the ones he'd seen on the strange white doll in the large window. (Though as to exactly what "cow-boy" meant, Jones was most perplexed.)

And since it was a bit cool in this land, he'd purchased some soft white shirts with half sleeves to insulate himself, along with some warm black socks and a thick black woolen scarf, except this wool was silky soft to the touch. _'Cashmere'_, Cara had called it.

But his prized find, a grand treat to himself, was a black leather coat, so similar to, yet so different than the one he'd worn as long as he could remember. He'd found he quite preferred this one, actually. It wasn't as heavy as his own, but the leather was still high quality and smooth. The hem stopped a good bit below his bum, and the whole thing was lined with a soft, quilted fabric and plenty of goosedown. Aye, he'd stay warm enough in this one.

* * *

_Extra A/N - every time I think about what Jones might look like in modern clothes... I just look at Colin O! LOL_

_Edited: How can Jones be in New York and Boston at the same time? LMAO OMG... I'm losing my mind..._


End file.
